


these thoughts get me through

by ornategrip



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five fantasies Daryl had about Glenn and one that came true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these thoughts get me through

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/2684.html?thread=2185340#t2185340) prompt on the TWD kink meme.
> 
> First part contains DUBCON.

1\. In the camp outside Atlanta 

The kid came straggling in after the camp was settled, with his baseball cap and open face. Eager to please, desperate for people, fucking _volunteering_ to go back into the city for supplies. Wanted to be useful so nobody would leave him behind again, Daryl figured.  So he wouldn’t be alone.

And no, he didn’t sympathize at all, Daryl wasn’t no pussy. Sides, he’d always have Merle, wouldn’t he All them squirrels he brought back and shared with the rest of camp, that was just him making up for whatever shit Merle had gotten up to. He wasn’t like that kid at all.

The kid (Glenn, he knew, heard his name when other people called it, tucked the knowledge away like a secret) had tried to talk to him once but Daryl had just glared at him until he left. Not a moment too soon, either, Merle crashing through the brush towards the tent even as the kid slipped away.

Later though, Daryl liked to pull that memory out, change it a bit so Merle stayed gone and the kid talked more. Talked things a little different. Maybe the kid showed up at his tent because he was hungry, wanted some squirrel and he’d give Daryl whatever he wanted just so he could have some.

Daryl wanted his mouth.

So the kid would drop to his knees and Daryl would jerk his fly open and feed his dick into that mouth. The kid would stare up at him, suck him off, get him sloppy wet. Daryl bet he was made for it, made to suck cock, how could he not with a mouth like that?

Daryl had taken one look at him, after all, and wanted him on his knees.

Got to the point, every time he jerked off it was to Glenn on his knees, mouth opened wide. Other parts changed though, as time went on, as he got to know Glenn a little. As he saw him move through the camp, smile for just about everybody and so fucking decent Daryl didn’t know how he survived in the world _before_ it went to shit.

So the fantasy changed, Glenn no longer paying for food, but thanking Daryl maybe, for being such a good hunter. Kissing his cock because he just plain wanted to, not because there was some sort of debt to pay. Smiling up at him, all sweet and coy.

That part of the fantasy made Daryl uneasy, like maybe it was too soft or some shit but he pushed those feelings aside, not wanting to think about it. Hell, he still got off, right? All that mattered.

 

2\. After the nursing home

“I want to thank you.” Glenn would breath against his mouth, press those lips against Daryl’s lips. Glenn, who Daryl had thought he might never see again, who he had seen on the edge of a roof, that very same mouth covered in duct tape.

He thought about that because it was better than thinking about all the bodies they’d buried, all the walkers they’d burned. Better to think of Glenn grateful in his lap than angry at him for wanting to burn the dead.

So yeah, Glenn sitting in his lap, kissing him and telling him how wonderful it was for Daryl (and Rick’s and T-Dog’s contributions to that could just be ignored, it was his damn fantasy) to save him from those goddamned gang-bangers. How strong Daryl was, that he didn’t blame him for letting him get caught in the first place, how he always knew Daryl would rescue him.

Like Daryl was a fucking hero, or something. A knight, yeah? He remembered those from his story books when he was a boy. Glenn would say all those things while kissing Daryl like Daryl held all the air in the room. Quick, clever hands working under his shirt to stroke at Daryl’s stomach, to touch the skin there with something like want.

Those hands of his, Daryl didn’t know for sure, but he thought of them as soft. Soft and strong and they’d stroke his dick like a pro, make him moan into Glenn’s pretty mouth. Glenn would squirm in his lap as he worked Daryl, warm and alive and well, hell, just perfect really.

As soon as he was done jerking off, he wiped his hands clean on some leaves and made his way back to where the other survivors had bunked down for the night. It was about his time to take over watch anyway and as he walked over to the RV, he saw Glenn sitting up top. He climbed up the side easily, crossbow a comforting weight along his back.

He full expected Glenn to just get up and move on past him, to climb down without a word and go to bed. Instead, Glenn stood and let him take the chair but lingered until Daryl glanced his way. 

“Sorry.” Glenn muttered, but he looked Daryl right in the face as he did it. Big balls, just like Daryl said. Then Daryl blinked because what the fuck did Glenn have to be sorry for? His confusion must have shown because Glenn added,

“For earlier, about the bodies. I mean, I wasn’t wrong about the bodies, we have to bury our dead, not burn them, we burn the walkers sure but not them.” He seemed to realize he was babbling and took a deep breath. “I was wrong to yell at you, I was out of line.”

Daryl studied him in the low light of the fire, letting the silence linger until Glenn began to fidget.

“No,” he said finally, “You weren’t.”

 

3\. Shower at the CDC

Hot water was a blessing, one Daryl hadn’t rightly realized how much he missed. Standing in that shower, though? With the warm water just raining down on him?

Heaven.

Only thing better, he mused, was if he had a warm body in here with him. If he had Glenn in here with him, getting him all clean. Daryl couldn't decide if he'd like it better if Glenn was soaping Daryl up or if he was soaping up Glenn. Maybe both, their hands tangling, slick with soap as they touched each other all over. Washed the dirt and blood and grime of too long on the run.

They were safe and wasn’t that a kick to the ass? Safe so that meant they could take their time, Daryl could take his time. Get to see Glenn’s body, pay attention to all his slopes and angles, finally get a good look at that ass.

Daryl shut his eyes against the warm spray of the water, leaned back against the wall and jerked himself off lazily. Without the heavy fear of death, Glenn would get playful, he bet. Would grin and tickle, rub his body up against Daryl’s and Daryl would let him have whatever he wanted.

Hell, Daryl never had a dick in his mouth but he’d suck Glenn. Might not be any good at it but Glenn would understand, be careful with him while Daryl figured it out. Show him what he liked, tug his fingers softly through Daryl’s hair. That would feel nice, Glenn’s fingers scritching along his scalp. Like being petted or something.

Daryl brought his free hand up, scrubbed at his own scalp but it didn’t do much. Just felt like he was scratching at his own head. So he moved his hand to his mouth, slid one finger carefully inside. Tried two fingers and sucked on them, sucked on them like he was sucking on cock, running his tongue over his own knuckles.

He tipped his head back, water sluicing all over, one hand working his dick, the other working his mouth. He was moaning around his hand, jerking himself faster and harder, just imagining what it would be like to suck Glenn’s dick. 

To be on his knees for Glenn, to make Glenn feel good.

When he came, he bit down on his fingers hard enough to hurt and soon as his orgasm was over, he pulled them out of his mouth with a hiss. Shit. If he ever did blow Glenn, he’d have to make sure not to do _that_. It made him laugh a little, sound echoing in the shower stall, alcohol in his system making it funnier than it was.

His laugh slowed to a chuckled and he tipped his head back, took a deep breath of the warm foggy air. Water was still warm, which was a miracle in and of itself but he best get cleaned up before it went cold. He reached for the soap, lathered it up.

He ran his hands over his body, feeling the little bumps and imperfections that marked all his scars. From his bar fights and beatings, all the shit life had thrown at him before the world settled on walkers as the best way to fuck with Daryl Dixon. Glenn wouldn't mind his scars, wouldn't ask no questions about them neither. Just accept them as part of Daryl and maybe someday Daryl would tell him about them.

He forgot all about that fantasy later, buried underneath a crazy ass doctor and a sky going up in flames.

 

4\. Injured looking for Sophia

Glenn came in to check on him after Carol came by with dinner. Shuffled his feet in the doorway until Daryl tossed a look over his shoulder and then he came in to hover over the bed. Daryl could have been nicer, but hell. He’d fallen off a cliff, stabbed himself through his side and gotten shot in the damn head. And while he was glad as hell that he found Sophia's doll (she was alive, dammit, he knew it) Merle's ugly voice was still echoing in his head.

So, yeah, he was meaner to Glenn than he meant to, didn’t really mean to drive him off even if that was what ended up happening. As soon as Glenn had fled, considerate enough to shut the door softly behind his high-tailing ass, Daryl cursed. Shoved his blankets off of him and tried to get up.

Yeah, that didn’t work out so well and he collapsed back on the bed, sweaty and breathing hard. Damn it, couldn’t go chasing after Glenn like this, couldn’t even stand. He flung his arm over his eyes and cussed some more, frustration bubbling under his skin and making him antsy.

Made him want to throw things, break things but no. He was a better man than that, right? Carol said so. Said he was every bit as good as them.

He pulled his arm away, stared up at the ceiling. Shit, what was he doing, crying for himself like some sort of pussy? Here he was in a real bed, a real fucking bed and he was too busy feeling sorry for himself to enjoy it.

Enjoy it.

He glanced over at the shut door, eyed it cautiously. What the hell, anybody caught him they could walk right back out. Man had needs, everybody knew that. He reached over with his good arm, careful not to tug no stitches, clicking the light off.

Still, he kept the sheet draped over him, didn’t actually want to give anybody a show, or at least, anybody who wasn’t Glenn. Now wasn’t that a nice thought? Glenn watching him jack off, maybe sitting at the foot of the bed. He’d be talking to Daryl, tell him what to do, telling how much he liked to watch Daryl fuck his own fist.

That pretty voice saying all sorts of filthy things, stuff that would make Glenn blush, hell might make Daryl blush in the light of day. Right now though, all those words just made Daryl shiver, made him jerk himself harder, gritting his teeth to keep too much noise from busting out.

Daryl knew how to come quiet, even before living in this commune type shit. Him and Merle always shared a room growing up and nothing was more horrifying than the thought of getting caught out by big bro. So yeah, he grit his teeth, breathed harsh around them, drooled a little but kept quiet, the whole time imagining Glenn saying the absolutely filthiest things he could think of.

He came when the Glenn in his head told him to come, arching off the bed and coming damn near close to popping his brand new stitches. When he collapsed back on the bed, he moved his clean hand to his side, relieved to find them intact. No need to have to explain to Herschel why he had to be restitched.

He wiped his hand absently on the sheets; they were already dirty, had to be washed anyhow after he slept on them. Thing was, he liked Glenn, figured that they were becoming friends now, real friends. Not just two people thrown together by the fucking end of the world. Glenn actually seemed to want to be around him, to spend time with him, smiled at Daryl and meant it. Glenn would talk to him, give him hell for the stupid racist shit that fell out Daryl’s mouth when he wasn’t paying attention. Made Daryl watch his words as best he could over a life time of parroting whatever his Pa and Merle would say.

He’d hunt down Glenn tomorrow, he decided. Tell him sorry or something, offer to teach him how to shoot with a crossbow. That would be be nice, maybe beat out of apologizing so Daryl wouldn’t have to say the words. Glenn would figure out what Daryl was really saying. He always did. 

 

5\. After shooting Dale

Daryl didn’t want to think about Dale. Didn’t want to think about the stink of blood and guts, the sounds the man made, the look in his eyes when Daryl looked into them right before he put him out of his misery.

No, man. He didn’t want to think about that shit at all.

So he lay in his tent, hand cupping his soft dick and made himself think of something good. Something nice. Something sweet.

Glenn’s pretty mouth. His pretty face, pretty hands. Pretty little ass. The way Glenn said his name, yeah, that was nice. His dick stirred in his palm and he touched himself roughly, brain spinning as many images of Glenn as he could manage. Glenn sucking his dick, Glenn stroking him off, Glenn on his lap, smiling down at him.

Glenn straddling him right now, taking care of him. Kissing him gently, stroking his hands along Daryl’s chest. Pushing his palm where Daryl’s heart still beat, stubborn thing refusing to die. He’d ride Daryl, just sink down on his dick, all tight and warm. Slick somehow too, with lotion or grease or hell, cooking oil. Daryl didn’t care, not if it meant he could watch Glenn rock up and down on his cock. Slow and steady, dragging it out, making them sweat and pant and cling to one another.

Living, in amongst all this death.

He came with a whimper, thinking of Glenn on top of him, pinning him down safe and warm. Working him through his orgasm, whispering the sweetest words in his ear. Cuddling close and promising never to leave.

Afterwards, limp and far from sated, he lay staring up at the tent ceiling. It was quiet, or as quiet as the country got. Bugs chirping, as if they had no idea Armageddon was down upon them. Trees rustling in a breeze that never took the stench of death away with it.

He knew that Glenn and that farm girl were going at it. Have to be stupid not to notice that and well, it wasn't as if Daryl actually thought any of his little fantasies were ever going to come true. Didn’t matter no how if Glenn was fucking her; it wasn’t as if he was ever going to fuck Daryl anyhow.

He turned, punched the pathetic bundle he called a pillow and tried to get to sleep.

 

+1. Glenn and Maggie break up

Daryl was fucking around in the field behind the house when Glenn came running towards him at near a breakneck speed.

“Walkers?” he demanded, swinging his crossbow off his back and snapping his eyes around for any sign. Breath wheezing, doubled over, Glenn shook his head, gasped, waved his hands around.

“No walkers. Nothing like that.”

Well, near as Daryl could figure that was what he had said. Poor kid was breathing so heavy it was difficult to discern. And just how far had he run anyway? Glenn could run, no doubt about that and to be so winded, it had to be quite a distance. He waited patiently, crossbow resting easily in his arms until Glenn calmed down enough to speak.

"Maggie and I broke up."

Okay. Daryl didn't really know what to do with that; what the hell? Was Glenn really coming to him for relationship advice? For comfort? Was Daryl really the comforting type? Glenn was staring up at him with big, big eyes and Daryl huffed out a breath, patted him awkwardly with one hand.

"I'm sure she'll change her mind." he offered and he did figure that was true. He wasn't blind; her and Glenn were more off and on than a light switch. Made no sense to him. He had Glenn, he’d never give him up. Glenn shook his head.

“No, it isn’t that. Wasn’t going to work anyway. I-“ he hesitated, shot Daryl an unreadable look. “I didn’t feel the same way about her.”

It got quiet and Daryl did his best not to fidget, feeling awkward and out of place in this conversation. Trying to ignore that little voice in his head that was saying this was his chance now, that he should try to get Glenn before somebody else snatched him. A bigger voice (so much like Merle’s that Daryl both hated and loved it) was telling him there was ain’t no way a man like Glenn would ever want someone like Daryl. A hillbilly redneck who was a walking punchline to every white trash joke in existence.

"Could you put that away?" Glenn asked nervously and it took Daryl a second to realize he meant his crossbow. Frowning, Daryl did as told, strapping it to his back while Glenn stared resolutely at the dirt and grass beneath their feet.

“See, the thing is, uh... it’s _how_ we broke up. See, I think she might tell you about it and I don’t want you to be mad.”

That made no sense. He hadn’t said more than two words to Maggie and she hadn’t said more than two words to him. Why would she come running to him about this shit? He said as much and Glenn made a strangled noise, like he was trying to laugh but failed at it. 

“Yeah, well, it’s just, I mean, you know.” Glenn made some sort of vague gesture and Daryl was not following this conversation at all.

“What?” he demanded, feeling stupid and not liking it. He didn’t want to be stupid in front of Glenn but he had no fucking clue what the other man was talking about. He just wanted this over so he could go hide and maybe jerk off to the image of Glenn all out of breath.

“I said your name during an intimate moment!” Glenn blurted out, so fast it almost sounded like one long word and Daryl had to take a second to figure out what the fuck he’d said.

Daryl blinked.

Hell, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had this exact fantasy, although it sort of involved him coming across them in the middle of something hot and heavy, hearing Glenn cry out his name and then shoving Maggie aside to take her place and give Glenn what he wanted.

"I'm sorry," Glenn was going on, face bright red. "It's none of your business, I know but she's really mad right now and I was afraid she might tell you so I wanted to tell you first so you don't kill me when I go to the bathroom or something. I swear it won't happen again, I'll stay away from you, I won't try to, you know, _seduce_ you or anything, it's just you have really nice arms -"

Daryl kissed him.

It was awkward for about two seconds and then Glenn just melted into him, mouth opening so sweet to Daryl’s, like it was what he had been waiting for, for years and years. Daryl kissed him, hungry and grateful and none of his fantasies had gotten this right, the taste of Glenn on his tongue.

They pulled away slowly, not far, just far enough to look each other in the face. The look on Glenn’s, happy and unbelieving - Daryl memorized it as best he could, tucked it down deep where nobody, walker or no, could take it.

"Oh wow." Glenn breathed, hands still wrapped around Daryl's waist. "Maggie is going to be so pissed."

And then he looked mortified, tripping over his own tongue trying to explain that he wasn’t thinking about Maggie while kissing Daryl, in fact it was that he was always thinking of Daryl while he was kissing Maggie that was going to get him beat all to hell by that woman.

Daryl kissed him again just to shut him up.


End file.
